Castiel Falls
by Hiddlestoner1998
Summary: The story of Castiel, starting in Heaven when Gabriel was his teacher. Rated M for smut. Destiel Dean / Castiel
1. Chapter 1

Credit to Kripke for the characters, I don't own any of them.

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"Gabriel?" young Castiel asked his favourite brother hesitantly, his wings flaring slightly. The older arch-angel turned to look down at the young angel affectionately.

"What is it, kiddo?" he ruffled the dark hair. Castiel's wings, cerulean blue edged with silver and edged in darkness, spread slightly.

"Where is Anna?" his blue eyes were wide with sadness and curiosity, innocent in a way only a young child's could be. It didn't stop the pang of guilt that lanced Gabriel's grace at the thought of the red-headed play-mate of his charge (all angels were to look after fledglings) who had craved to be human with all of her grace.

"She's gone, Castiel. She's gone to live with the humans now, like she always wanted to," Gabriel said.

"Why would she do that?" the young angel gasped. "Is she coming back?"

"No, Castiel. She isn't. She gave up her wings. Do you know what that means?" the arch-angel didn't know how to make this little fledgling, already so different from the others, understand.

"She won't remember us," sadness coated his voice, and blue wings drooped. "She won't remember _me_. Why would she do that, Gabriel?"

"Because she didn't believe she was meant to be an angel," Gabriel comforted the fledgling. "Not like you, right?"

"I'm going to miss Anna," Castiel said softly.

"We all will, kiddo. But you've got to train, haven't you? You know why you've got wings that are different to ours," the arch-angel smiled gently.

"I'm going to save the righteous man!" the fledgling probably didn't even know what that meant yet, not fully, but he would learn. And Gabriel would have to be the one to teach him everything. Before he left.

Not like Anna, no, he liked being an angel. He just didn't like serving Michael and making plans to kill other angels, even if they were rebels. He was going to hide himself in the human world, maybe check in on Anna every once in a while. He would have left sooner, but he had Castiel, and no one else would be able to care for this unique fledgling. He didn't trust them to.

"Balthazar!" Castiel yelled, twisting out of his guardian's arms to wave at his play-mate.

"Castiel!" the young angel grinned, hugging his friend tightly. "Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, Balthazar," the arch-angel smiled. "Where's Michael? I thought he was overseeing you?"

"He's _boring_. You're a much more fun guardian," this fledgling was remarkably outspoken and rebellious, even at this age. He wouldn't be following the 'grand design' either, Gabriel guessed. He could see the same attitude in Castiel when he was ordered not to interfere in human tragedies. Well, Fate would play out. It always did.

"Balthazar!" Michael yelled, catching up to the fledgling finally. He sighed heavily, glaring at his charge. "I told you not to go anywhere!"

"I saw Castiel," Balthazar's white wings, threaded with other vibrant colours, slumped.

"Come on, it's time to learn fighting techniques," the arch-angel smiled a greeting at his brother and Castiel before leaving, a stubborn fledgling at his side.

"Michael's strict," Castiel stated. "I'm glad you're my guardian and mentor, Gabriel."

"Me, too, kiddo. You learn much more quickly than some of your siblings," the arch-angel watched as Raphael tried to train the errant Uriel. He could see that the angel, though rebellious, would mature into the perfect soldier, following Heaven's plans perfectly. He'd be a welcome addition to Castiel's mission when saving the righteous man. Already, his name was whispered through the Heavens – Dean Winchester. He was only a child, but he'd already lost his mother and his father was hunting the yellow-eyes, Azazel. His brother had been fed demon blood, not that the righteous man knew it yet. Lucifer's vessel. Gabriel always felt sorry for the kids who Fate had chosen to shoulder such a heavy burden. He could already see the shadows that would darken Dean's soul and turn into the self-hatred and world-weariness that would weigh on him, maybe for the rest of his life.

"Dean Winchester," Castiel stated, jerking his mentor out of his reverie. "He's the righteous man, isn't he?"

"How do you know that?" Gabriel asked sharply. His fledgling flinched a little, and the older angel winced.

"I dream of him," the blue-eyed angel stated, feathers ruffling slightly. "Him and his brother. They're not young in my dreams, though. He's making deals with red-eye demons, for his brother. He's killing the yellow-eyes to avenge his mother. He's being dragged to Hell by a white-eye demon's hell-hounds. He's my charge, isn't he?"

"You're seeing the future, Castiel," the arch-angel knelt before his charge, gazing into bright blue eyes that already knew too much for such a youngling. But that just made his grace a better fit with the weary soul he'd come to save. "Those things have not happened yet. You're seeing the future of your charge."

"I'm going to save him from Hell," Castiel stated. "Aren't I?"

"Yes," Gabriel nodded. "You will be the angel to pull the righteous man from the deepest pits, and return him to the Earth. It's what He has commanded."

"He doesn't command us to do anything any more, does he?" Castiel had caught on to their Father's absence way too quickly.

"This was his last command, before he hid himself on Earth," the arch-angel admitted. "He told us a special angel would be born, and he would be the one to save the righteous man."

_And become humanity's most fierce protector_, but he kept that to himself. That would come to pass as Castiel became closer to his charge. It always did. Angels always became too close to humans. And it always seemed to destroy them.

"His last command ... was for me?" Castiel gaped.

"Yes, Castiel. And now it's time to train," Gabriel spread his golden wings. "Use your grace, like I showed you."


	2. Chapter 2

Time passed in the blink of an eye. As soon as Castiel completed his training and was fully prepared to enter Hell and raise the righteous man, Gabriel disappeared. No one knew where he'd gone. They mourned him as they would a dead soldier, but Castiel knew he hadn't died. He'd have felt the death in his grace. But he didn't tell them that. He knew Gabriel would have wanted it this way. His mentor had always had his reasons.

"Castiel, you know what you must do," arch-angel Michael said, before the angel left Heaven, for what could be a long time. "I wish you well. You will succeed."

"Thank you, Michael," Castiel spread his wings, the feathers slightly harder than all of his brothers' and sisters' because of this job he'd always known he must do. He flew to Earth, following the spiritual trail that had become connected to his own grace. Then he was in Hell, and he nearly froze up.

The scent of sulphur hit him like he'd just flown into a brick wall. Screams and wails of agony assailed him from every direction. The scent of burning flesh and blood was acrid, a burning scent in his nostrils. Helpless terror and pain pressed against his grace, darkness threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't help any of these souls. He had to help the righteous man's ... _there_!

He saw the vibrant flickering light that was a beautiful emerald green, streaked with a darkness that was beginning to dull the rest of the soul. He'd taken too long already, Castiel realised as he burst into the rack. The soul was stretched out, screaming, still crying out for his brother. Castiel's bright light caused the surrounding demons to cringe away, and he gathered the soul into his grace, his angel blade in his hands as he fought his way out of the rack. Then a smirking demon, more powerful than the rest, stepped into the way.

"Hello, angel," he leered. "You come for my best student? He's already ours."

"Alistair!" Castiel growled, slashing forward with his blade. He felt the instinctive fear of the soul in his grace at the presence of the head torturer, and he shot away, wings beating against the flames of Hell, the feathers strong enough to withstand the heat. He followed the faint threads this soul had to the surface, and burst out of Hell, on to Earth. He felt the soul vanish, returned to its body, the moment he broke through, and he traced it, finding the source of the disturbance.

"Dean Winchester!" he tried to speak with the soul, assuming it would be able to hear his true voice, now that he'd been in such close contact with his grace. He was wrong, and the human fell to the ground. Castiel left the human who resonated with his grace, seeking out his human vessel. Jimmy was reluctant, but after an easy promise, Castiel had a human form. He felt the pull of someone trying to look at his true form, and flinched as he was half-pulled from his vessel.

"No! Don't!" he tried to warn them.

"Castiel? Sorry, I don't scare easy," he heard the faint reply, and felt the backlash of pain as she saw the angel's true form. He felt regret that she had not listened, but that was not his fault. He felt the summoning spell, calling him to Dean, and he materialised outside the warded barn. Really? Dean thought he was a _demon_?

The doors swung open, and he realised that his wings were not visible in this plane, and he felt a stab of loss. He walked in, barely feeling the bullets that were emptied into his chest. He frowned when Dean drove the demon-killing blade into his chest, though – he was his _saviour_.

"What are you?" Dean's voice was a pleasant growl, and Castiel frowned again that he was noticing such, well, _human _things. He realised that the blazing green of Dean's eyes matched the gorgeous glow of his soul, the same shade that still flickered within the human vessel.

"I am Castiel. I am an angel of the lord," he stated, his own voice gruff, and he willed his wings into existence. He could see them, but the humans could only see the shadows they produced. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

"Why?" Dean demanded, eyes narrowing.

"Because God commanded it. Because God has work for you," Castiel left out the part that God had vanished, and it would be his brothers issuing orders. Humans wouldn't be able to understand the intricate working of the Heavenly Host anyway – it wasn't their concern.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel found himself becoming closer and closer with the human charges, much to Heaven's displeasure. Uriel warned him. Michael warned him. Balthazar clearly disapproved. The only problem was ... he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had come to love the unique emerald glow of Dean's weary soul, even with its darker streaks that never truly left. Self-hatred and despair often burned inside the hunter's heart. He believed he'd failed so many people, and it hurt Castiel to see him so ... _alone_.

Only when Castiel and the Winchesters found Anna, and Gabriel, both so different but still the same mentor and friend Castiel had once had as a fledgling, did the angel feel any semblance of being _right_. But the others thought Gabriel dead, and the arch-angel wanted it to stay that way.

Castiel found himself dragged back to Heaven regularly, berated for how close he was getting to his human charges, for Sam had come to mean much to him too. He was introduced to a darker side of Heaven, where they attempted to whip his loyalty back into him. He just nodded, and returned to Earth, woodenly completing the task set and feeling a pang of guilt when Dean looked at him with gratitude in his eyes that eventually faded to accusations and anger when he discovered what the angel had done in the name of Heaven. Eventually, it was too much.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean swore, punching the wall and not caring that his knuckles split. "Why? Why do you keep helping them?! They've done _nothing _for you!"

"I have no choice! You don't know ..." Castiel's voice faltered. He shouldn't, _couldn't_, tell Dean what they had been doing to him in Heaven when he returned. He would invoke Heaven's wrath on himself and possibly on the hunter. He wouldn't do that to Dean.

"Don't know _what_, Cas?" Dean's eyes were blazing with fire.

"Nothing. Nothing," the angel mumbled. He hated lying to these humans, even to protect them. They were more fragile than he was. Some of the beatings he had endured would kill a human. He couldn't forget that.

"Don't lie to me, Cas," the hunter's voice softened, his emerald eyes not narrowed with anger any more. Blood stained his knuckles, not that he'd noticed.

"You're the one who taught me to lie, remember?" Cas managed, even though his vessel's heart was speeding up and he couldn't explain the strange heat that buzzed in his chest. A smile touched Dean's lips, still a little harder than normal but _better_. And the angel had put that smile there.

He felt his grace burning with something _strange. _He usually felt that pull when being called back to Heaven, but it ... _wasn't_. He was ... no, he couldn't be breaking his ties with Heaven, could he? But he felt his grace snapping away from Heaven and the links it had possessed for so long, reaffirming the ones he had with this hunter. Dean almost-absently rubbed a hand over his arm, right over where Castiel's handprint branded his skin, a permanent scar, a reminder.

"What ...?" Castiel swayed as the bond burned brighter, even stronger than it had been before.

"Castiel!" Uriel's voice was a whiplash as he appeared behind the angel. "You have ... What have you done?"

"I don't know!" Castiel was _scared_. He looked with wide eyes at the cold emotionless angel before him, and truly _saw _Uriel. The heartless killer his old friend had become. Balthazar was a thief. Uriel was a murderer and a liar. Gabriel was _gone_. His family was shattered.

"You've disobeyed!" Uriel shouted at him. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"You dick!" Dean roared at him, and slammed Castiel's hand on the sigil he'd been drawing in blood. Thanks to being in contact with it, Castiel wasn't thrown out of the room. He barely even felt the power of the banishing sigil any more. "Cas, what did he mean?"

Dean stepped closer, and heat pooled in the angel's stomach, foreign but _good_. Castiel swayed, unused to his grace being so close to the soul. They hadn't been _this _close since he'd been cradling Dean in his grace as he fought his way from Hell. But this was so much better.

"I've ... I'm not Heaven's," Castiel breathed, and those emerald eyes widened in pleasure and disbelief. Dean's hand tightened on his shoulders, almost enough to hurt.

"How? What broke the connection?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. Disbelief, hope, awe, pleasure ... they were all trapped in the depths of Dean's eyes and flaring through his soul.

"You," Castiel said simply, and Dean's lips met his own. The heat that had been burning inside him exploded through his body, lighting him up from the inside. He gasped into Dean's mouth, his hands tightening in short ashen hair as the hunter's tongue swept inside, tangling with his own tongue.

"Tell me stop," Dean begged, even as he tossed the trench-coat aside and began unbuttoning Castiel's shirt.

"Never," came the ragged reply. Then, "Dean, Dean, I don't know what to do. Teach me, please."

"Cas, are you sure?" Dean asked, his hands trailing nonsense patterns over Cas's skin, a scar from a sigil he'd carved there still slightly raised against his otherwise-unmarked skin.

"Please, please," Castiel was nearly incoherent, so unused to the rush of desire and need that pounded through his blood and threatened to overwhelm him. Dean guided him towards the bed, pushing him down, their lips meeting again and their tongues curling hotly together.

The angel was desperate, feeling the sharp heat of Dean's hunger rushing through this newer, stronger bond.

"You're wearing too many _clothes_," Castiel whined, his hands hovering over the hem of Dean's shirt.

"Then undress me," the angel felt the smile against his lips, and the human pulled away so his shirt could be pulled over his head. Then the celestial being, who was really no more than a shivering mess of _want _at this point, pushed his jeans away, licking his lips at the sight of the hunter's straining boxers.

"Let me see you, Cas," Dean breathed, and pushed the angel's tented slacks down his legs. Dean's eyes dilated until he almost looked demonic, the green in his eyes engulfed by black. "Shit, Cas, you went _commando_."

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel gasped as he felt teeth at his throat, sucking a bruise to the surface of his skin. Dean licked and sucked down his chest, his tongue pressing flat against his nipples and making the angel arch his back with a low cry. He sucked and licked until it was hard and red raw, then he repeated the process on the other one. The angel was whimpering and moaning now, desperate as his nails raked Dean's back. He could feel his wings, hidden from the hunter's view, twitching and shaking as he came undone beneath the hunter.

"Let me see them," Dean breathed against his mouth. His boxers had vanished, and the hard length pressed against Castiel's and made the angel gasp. He barely had to think, his wings unfurling around him. What surprised him, however, was when Dean's eyes followed the movement of the blue wings, threaded with silver and black.

"They're beautiful," his voice was hushed with awe. "Cas, you're so fucking beautiful."

"Dean!" the angel rasped. "Please ..."

"I know, Cas, I know. So turn over, baby, let me make you feel good," Dean urged, and the angel rolled on to his stomach, his wings spreading over the bed and the floor. The hunter splayed his fingers in the feathers, and his back arched with a low moan.

The angel was gasping in broken Enochian now, not able to string coherent sentences together that Dean could understand. He didn't care, though. He secretly loved the reminder that the man he loved was not human.

Dean pressed a kiss between those magnificent wings, and the angel shivered violently underneath him, his feathers flaring. Then Dean pressed a slicked up finger at his entrance, and the celestial being welcomed the burn as his charge slid in a second finger and scissored him open. A third finger joined him, and Castiel reached back, his hand clasping Dean's wrist.

"I'm ready, Dean, I _need _you," he gasped, his voice hoarse.

"Okay, baby, okay," the hunter pressed another kiss to the back of Cas's neck, before slicking up his achingly-hard cock and pushing into his angel.

"Dean!" Castiel cried out, hips bucking. Dean stilled, letting the angel adjust. "Dean, _move_!"

"Shit, Cas," the hunter swore, pulling out and his hips snapping back. His angel moaned beneath him, back to whimpering in Enochian. He caught his own name in there a few times, and he couldn't hold back any more. He began to pound into the angel beneath him, loving every desperate noise that fell from Castiel's lips.

"Dean, please, touch me!" Cas begged. The human leaned forwards, his lips brushing his ear.

"On your knees, baby," he breathed, and the angel scrambled up to his knees. One hand tightened on his waist as Dean set up a punishing pace, and the immortal being began to rock back, meeting him halfway and driving them both closer to the edge.

"Touch me, please, Dean!" Castiel could barely get out a coherent sentence. His charge's other hand closed on his dick, pumping in time with his movements, precome helping ease the glide of skin on skin.

If Cas had been loud before, he was fucking _screaming _now, his cries bouncing off the thin motel walls, joining the symphony that was already formed of the filthy slap of skin on skin, the ragged pants that Dean was making and the scent of sweat and sex that permeated the air. This was the closest Cas would ever be to Heaven again, but this was infinitely better, because _Dean _was here with him, driving him to this. In that moment, he'd never felt more alive, or more human. Then Dean leaned forwards again, his muscled torso pressing along Cas's back.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough, and the angel let go of the heat that was pooling behind his navel, feeling fire explode up his spine. He realised that it hadn't been his _body _burning. His grace had been on _fire_! He felt his grace explode within the vessel, and Dean cried out as Castiel's true form broke through the human form, lighting up the room and shrieking out in his true voice. Reality fragmented for both.

When they came back to themselves, Castiel was curled up in Dean's arms, exhausted but sated.

_When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell he was __**lost**__. _

No.

He had been _found_.

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Don't be mean, please?


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